


Like A Virgin

by icewhisper



Series: Leonard Snart Shorts [10]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 07:13:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13230642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icewhisper/pseuds/icewhisper
Summary: They were like a ticking time bomb, wants building up until one of them cracked first. He’d been determined to let it be Mick. It wasn’t.





	Like A Virgin

**Author's Note:**

> Written as part of my writing blog, [leonardsnartwrites](https://leonardsnartwrites.tumblr.com/). Normally, it would have been posted under the collections fic, [Leonard Snart Shorts](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10837056), but it ended up longer than planned.
> 
> Anonymous prompt: Loss of virginity, coldwave. Awkwardness and emotional obtuseness.

He’d never been much for slow. Which, in hindsight, might have been his first problem. Hand him the plans for a heist and he’d break it down to the damn second. When it came to feelings, though? To _intimacy_? He was up a creek.

Forget the paddle. He didn’t even have a damn _boat_.

But he and Mick had been dancing around each other for months now, hormones high and looks just a little too heated to be friendly. Mick’s hand brushing over his ass instead of his back. The way Leonard leaned into him the way he never let other people into his personal space.

They were like a ticking time bomb, wants building up until one of them cracked first.

He’d been determined to let it be Mick.

In the end, it was him. Leant over the plans for a heist in Opal City with Mick leaning over his shoulder, breath too hot against Len’s neck.

“What about that exit?” Mick asked, snaking his arm around Len’s middle to point at a spot on the blueprints.

“Fing…” He stopped and cleared his throat. “Fingerprint scanners. We don’t have time to cheat it before the failsafe triggers the alarm.”

“Crawling through the vents is gonna take even longer,” Mick pointed out, his voice at half a whine that ended with Mick dropping his chin onto Len’s shoulder with a pout. “Especially when we’ve got the stuff.”

“No triggers in the vents,” he said shortly, a little too curt. He could almost hear Mick frown.

“Len?” That arm that had reached across him drifted back to rest loosely at his hip. Big hand against a hip that was too narrow despite Mick’s best attempts to bring him up to a healthy weight. It felt like it was burning straight through his layers. “You good? Is it your head again?”

“No,” he muttered, because it wasn’t. It hadn’t been his head and those weird dizzy spells that made his vision go blue in _months_ , but Mick always worried too much. Not his head. Way too far north to be his head.

That goddamn hand moved up from his hip like a tease—he’d think Mick was doing it on purpose if Mick didn’t sound so concerned—to brush against his temple. “You sure? You’re kinda warm.”

He didn’t remember moving. One second, he had Mick half plastered against his back and the next, he was kissing Mick like he’d wanted to for months. It was messy and, _fuck_ , Len didn’t knew what he was doing. Their teeth knocked together and he thought Mick might have made some kind of startled sound into his mouth, but then, hands were grabbing at him and, okay, so that was good. Mick was kissing back. He was infinitely more skilled in it than Len was, but considering Len’s experience amounted to his hand, that wasn’t all that surprising.

Mick groaned his name in a way that made all the blood in Len’s head go south as big hands grabbed at his ass. He could work with this. He could definitely work with this. The shitty bed in the shitty motel room wasn’t that far away from the table they’d been working at. Push Mick backwards a bit and…

Mick stumbled away from him—too _far_ , Mick—looking confused. “Too far?” he asked, suddenly awkward. “Lenny, I-”

“No. The bed. I. It’s behind you.”

“I know.”

“I was trying to…” Len could feel his face go red. Fuck. “I wanted us to move.”

“To the bed.”

“To the bed,” Len agreed. He wondered if the floor would open up and swallow him. This definitely isn’t how this shit is supposed to go. He thinks. He figures.

Mick turned back to look at the closest bed like he hadn’t seen it before. He had. The blankets were still a jumbled mess from when Mick had rolled out of it that morning. Not that Len’s bed looked much better, actually. God, why were they still paying for motel rooms with two beds?

Mick looked back at him, eyes suddenly a little darker. Good. Len was pretty sure that meant Mick wasn’t about to tell him to fuck off. Especially when Mick gave a shaky nod and reached for Len. “C’mon. You’re too far away.”

They fell onto the mattress in an utterly undignified pile of limbs. Mick grunted into his shoulder. Len caught a knee in the gut. He scooted up, shimmying under Mick as much as he could and tried to drag Mick with him. It worked. Sort of. Enough that they were able to start kissing again.

Just to stop because Len couldn’t unbutton Mick’s shirt for the life of him and Mick was groaning about Len layering three shirts on top of each other.

“Clothes,” Mick told him. “Off.”

Len almost— _almost_ —asked if Mick meant pants too and barely saved himself that embarrassment. There was inexperienced and, then, there was just plain stupid. He’d rather not drift into the latter.

He still hesitated on the last shirt, down to just that and his boxers. It wasn’t like Mick hadn’t seen him with his shirt off before. The guy had had to patch him up enough times, but this was different. It was intimate in ways the other times were clinical.

Mick took the shirt from his hands, though—he’d had no problem stripping down to nothing and, fuck, Len was definitely staring—and pulled it over his head. Dragged his boxers off with a slow pull that made Len’s body go hot.

Mick didn’t say he was gorgeous or anything cliché, which Len was grateful for, because he had exactly zero desires to disagree, wave at his scars and too-skinny frame, and open up that can of worms. Not going there. So not going there.

Mick kissed him again in a way that made Len think he could taste the intent. The hands running down his sides. The one that drifted over to take him in hand. Len swore into the kiss, startled and aroused and definitely not a little nervous that it was going to end before it began. Definitely nervous. Fuck, he hoped he didn’t.

“Stop,” he gasped when the slow strokes brought him too close. “Wanna…”

Mick nodded, a little more insistent.

And paused.

Looked around the room.

“Do you have stuff?”

“Stuff?” Len repeated blankly.

“Stuff, Len,” Mick said again and, wow, that was the look that said Mick really hated Central City public schools. “Lube. Condoms.”

“You don’t have them?”

“No! You don’t?”

“Do I look like I have them?” he asked and he might have asked if they could just skip that stuff, but he knew enough to understand where parts were supposed to go. Nothing was fitting anywhere without something to help it along and they’d both been through juvie when people were freaking out about AIDS.

Mick gaped at him for a second as if they hadn’t both been playing the same game with each other. No reason why Mick couldn’t have gotten some shit along the way. Not that it gave Len much of an excuse either.

“Have you done this before?” Mick asked.

Len promptly wanted to die. “I’m twenty-two.”

“That’s not a yes.”

Yes. Len definitely wanted to die right then.

Mick fumbled, scooting back and hands raised as he… Len wasn’t sure what he was trying to do. He was contemplating if it was possible to die of humiliation. And if he was going to die a virgin. Which Mick hadn’t thought he was, because Len had definitely told him stories about girls and a couple guys. Who didn’t exist.

Fuck.

“Okay,” Mick said finally. “New plan.”

“What-” Len didn’t finish. Len couldn’t finish, because Mick had moved farther down and took him in his mouth. He could work with this. He could definitely work with this.

It was over embarrassingly fast and he’d barely warned Mick before the guy ended up with a mouthful of something that he probably didn’t want. Another mouthful. Mick looked more smug than mocking when he rose back up and kissed Len with a new taste in his mouth and a knowledge of where it had just been. It _did things_ to him.

He jerked Mick off with clumsy movements as he realized that jerking someone else off wasn’t _quite_ the same as working himself, but Mick was groaning into kisses in ways that kept distracting Len. Definite distractions that got worse when Mick went and attached himself to Len’s neck.

Apparently, Len liked that.

He also figured he was going to end up with a hickey the size of Connecticut, but he’d deal with that later.

Mick came over his hand with a grunt that tapered off into another groan. Len wondered if it would be rude to wipe his hand off on the blankets.

“We need to shower,” he said when he was pretty sure Mick was halfway to falling asleep on him.

“We need to move to your bed,” Mick corrected. So he had noticed Len wipe his hand. “And go to the drug store.”

“...Can we shower first?”

The End


End file.
